Frontier Justice
by Joshua5529
Summary: I was bored at my cousin's house so i just wrote this, but there are others copies on the internet.


Frontier Justice

Pete Shaw was on the last leg of his trip home, after delivering a herd of ten cattle to a buyer near the small community of Millers Flats. He had driven the herd across the mountain using Spicer Pass, small and rugged it was rarely used, but it lay just behind his spread. Pete s biggest consideration in opting for the rougher route was the eighteen mile it saved him.  
Topping a ridge, Pete saw the column of black smoke rising into a cloudless sky. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind; this had to be coming from his ranch.  
He kicked the big raw-boned roan, into a shambling run. Concern for what lay ahead, made him wish he d opted for a faster saddle horse. Pete hadn t picked the roan for speed; she was a mountain horse and a good one. Her stamina meant she could keep up a relatively fast pace of three or four miles an hour on rugged terrain for a very long time without rest. Running was not something she was asked to do very often and certainly not her idea of a good time. Still she made what Pete estimated, a five mile run in about fourteen minutes. Although that wouldn t win many races it was a very good effort for her. One glance told Pete the need for speed was long past due, the destruction of his ranch house was complete. Hot spots still sent up columns of smoke, but even they were running out of fuel. The out buildings were untouched, the barn and a utility shed both stark and unpainted stood much like he had left them, except for the barn door being ajar.  
He headed for the utility shed first because it was the closest, but the search was brief. The building was empty save for the equipment stored there.  
He ran the few yards to the barn hoping to see his wife and daughter crouching in the interior. Instead he saw the three horses that should have been here were missing. A mule, the only other animal that belonged here was lying dead in its stall, shot once in the head.  
Pete mechanically collected the things he would need on the trail. From a locked cupboard in the far end of the barn he took a Sharps buffalo gun, a box of ammo, two boxes for the Winchester and one for his colt. From a hook on the side of the cupboard he took a sheathed knife which he strung on his belt to the left side of his waist. Placing his supplies on top of a pile of blankets, Pete measured a four day ration of oats into a gunny sack. With the gunny sack in one hand and the rest of his supplies wrapped in a bundle of blankets, in the other Pete headed for what had been his home a short time ago.  
He took the time to unsaddle his horse, partly because he knew he would need her again. Any rest the horse could get in the time it would take for him to complete his grizzly task, would pay dividends later. Pete turned reluctantly toward the remains of the house. He paused, delaying the search, for what he expected he would find in the ashes of his home. The investigation of the wreckage of the house was systematic, room by room, relying largely on his remembered layout of the house. He found two broken oil lamps judging from their location he thought they were probably what started the fire. As he poked around in what had been Katy and his bed room he lifted a portion of roof that had fallen, but for some reason hadn t burned totally. Under this piece of charred wood, Pete found what he had been dreading. On the bed was the charred body of what Pete knew could only have been his wife. It was apparent that she had been on the bed, before the house was torched. Of course there was no way for him to know what had happened before the torching of the house. The slow fire burning in his gut was intensified by any speculation he applied to the scenario, so he put it from his mind. He did not need his judgment clouded by emotion; the task he had already assigned himself would take all his skill. Methodically he searched the rest of the site, but found nothing else of a significant nature. The failure to find any other human remains led Pete to believe his eight year old daughter; Peggy was a prisoner of the raiders. She certainly is alive he reasoned. They wouldn t have bothered taking a body and if she is alive, it s because they see a profit in keeping her that way. Pete brought a blanket in and transferred all the body part that he could identify as such onto it. He carried the blanket and its content to a site fifteen feet north of where the houses rear door had been. Three cotton wood trees Katy had planted in a sort of a triangle was where Pete decided the grave would be.  
Pete resented the time it would take to put Kate s remains into the earth, but he could not let even the remaining scraps of her fall prey to wild animals. He had only marked the outline of the grave when he notices a wagon coming over the brink of a hill to the west. There wasn t any mystery as to who his visitors would be. The Johannes, were neighbors to the Shaw s and neighbors were a rare and valuable commodity on the frontier. The Johannes lived a little less than twelve miles to the west and were the closest neighbors the Shaw s had. Pete had just finished taking the first layer of dirt out of the grave when the Johannes s wagon pulled up beside him. Good lord! Pete what in the world happened here? Orloff Johannes spook in a thick Swedish dialect which Pete had more than a little problem understanding. I just got home from a cattle drive this morning and this is what I found. It looks like four men raided my ranch last night or early this morning. They have killed my wife, burned my home down and kidnapped my daughter, they have a lot to answer for and they will. The Johannes s were struck by the absolute lack of warmth in Pete s face. The smile that generally shaped his mouth into a greeting was gone replace by a cruel harsh line. Oscar the oldest of the Johannes boys stepped forward, when he started to speak Pete listened intently to what he had to say. The boy spoke much better English than either of his parents and if there was anything to learn this was his best chance. Sir; me and my brother were in Crystal Wells two days ago, all the talk was about three men who were arisen hell there about. They seemed to be lead by a man called himself Slick Slade. Another called Whitey; he was said to be an albino Indian. The other was name of Tom something it s said he didn t seem too bright, but was as strong as a bull. Anyway they killed a man in a bar room brawl. The Sheriff said there s nothing he could do because as far as he could see the fight was fair. He did strongly suggest they leave town and they seemed to take that advice to heart. When we were told they left town heading east we headed for home didn t want to leave the place undefended with animals like them about. Well it s possibly the same ones, but they must have picked up a companion, all the signs around here suggest four horses. Oh yea, I forgot to tell you they were travailing with a half-breed squaw. Orloff stepped forward. Me and my boys will look after the grave we will lay the pieces of her in there gentle and when you and Peggy get back we can have a proper ceremony. I m not much for religion, but I expect Katy would have liked that. Pete handed the shovel to young Oscar and began saddling the mare. The quicker I get started the less time Peggy has to put up with those animals. I appreciate the help it won t be forgotten. * * * Pete urged the mare carefully balancing his need for speed with the horse s ability to perform. The trail lead almost due south, but Pete knew south, or east the trail would eventually enter the mountains. Fifteen minutes later he noticed were the trail he was following, veered sharply to the east. The tell tale line of crushed and bent over vegetation marked the trail the outlaws had taken. He set a course that would intersect the outlaws trail at about the base of the foot hills. The mare had settled into a fast, but reluctant walk, still sulking about being pressed into extra duty. Pete relaxed in the saddle on the trip to the foot hills realizing for the first time since this ordeal begin, just how tired he was. Pushing on last night in favor of getting home sooner was now testing his endurance still he would rather this ended to-night if possible. The trail was good, but there was a slight upward tilt to it which got more acute with each passing mile. By the time Pete reached the outlaws trail he reckoned he had about an hour of fast diminishing daylight left. He hadn t followed the trail more than fifty feet when he noticed one of the seven horses was missing. An odd shiver crept across his chest. He couldn t for the life of himself understand why he wasn t already dead. By not paying close enough attention to the trail he had walked into a trap, but for some unknown reason it wasn t being sprung. Turning he retraced his steps back down the trail he had just came up, each step taken with expectation that it could be his last.  
At last he reached the point, where the back trail guard had eased off to the north. Pete knew he would be searching for a good ambush location, one that offered a view of the trail. He traveled slowly now trying to keep the trail in sight, as darkness slowly, but surly closed in. Pete dismounted; standing silent he could hear the sound of chopping, not with an axe, but perhaps with a heavy knife. He tied the big mare to a tree and moved slowly and silently toward the sound.  
In a hollow, formed within a clump of vegetation a man crouched, hacking at a small tree. Pete silently went about locating his horse, complete with a Sharps buffalo gun. The man s leg was caught in a bear trap and he was doggedly hacking away the small tree the trap was anchored to. What are you doing, Tom? Hu! Oh you scared me. How do you know my name? Ha, ha I always like to get to know the men I m going to kill. Why would you want to kill me? Hell I don t even know you. Well you should get to know the men you re robbing. You raided my Ranch, stole my horses, killed my wife, kidnapped my daughter and burned down my ranch house. While Pete talked he bound the captive s hands together using a wrap method used by hunters to hoist their larger kills for gutting and skinning.  
We didn t kill your wife. We didn t kill anybody. Did you really think I wouldn t find her remain in the ashes of the house. Suddenly understanding swept over the big mans face.  
Hell, man that was Crazy Betty she dogged us for nearly three years. That squaw finally lost her grip on reality and attacked Slick with an oil lamp. He shot her in self defense. We throw her body on the bed before we torched the house, but she was already dead. Pete struggled with his emotion for some time. The news that his wife might be alive, although welcome did nothing to cure the cold hatred he had for these men.  
That s good news, but it doesn t change a thing. You are alive because I think I may be able to use you; if I find I can t you will no longer have a reason for living. Even though the big man had a very serious injury to his right leg Pete tied him securely to a tree.  
Methodically he gathered the big man s pistol and knife. Stuffing them into the saddle bag, he made himself a promise to tidy them later. After feeding the horses and putting together a cold supper for himself and his prisoner Pete rose with a sigh.  
Behave yourself; you just might live until to-morrow. A faint trail led east into the briers directly toward a cliff face, twenty feet further and it ended abruptly. The trial disappeared into a thicket which seemed to be growing right at the base of the cliff.  
Pete crawled forward thought the dangerous thorn bushes noting as he progressed that many of the thorns had generous tuffs of a brown fur snagged on them. The cave at the end of the trail was pungent with the odor of bear. It extended into the cliff face about eight feet and was about five feet wide. A great place for a nap, but the odor of bear drove Pete to find a place in the open. Further along the cliff he found a shelf jutting out from the face of the cliff. A few arm loads of dry pine needles covered with a bear skin hide side down, a blanket and bedroll made up the rest of what he needed for the night.  
Pete had the unique ability of most frontiers man, that knack of prescribing how long he would sleep, or he thought, he use to have it and time would tell if it still worked.  
Sleep came almost instantly. ****  
Pete s eyes flashed open, but he didn t move a muscle, just laid there letting his senses soak up what information was available. Hearing nothing he reasoned something must have wakened him. Silently he rose from the shelf that formed his bed. Something real or imagined woke him and he couldn t ignore that. Reaching down he deliberately picked up each boot held it upside down and shook it vigorously before inserting his foot. Winchester in hand he started the slow and dangerous trip back up the trail. The sky sported a thick blanket of clouds, which effectively blocked even the slimmest ray of light. Pete operated almost entirely from his memory of the trail gained from traveling it once. At about the half way point he stopped. Just ahead and to his right he heard the sounds of muffled conversation. Crawling on his stomach, Pete managed to close the distance, so he could distinguish shapes. Aiming the rifle at the shadowy figure he said.  
Lay the rifle down and let s talk. Pete was already changing positions as the three shot rang out. He could hear them impacting the ground to his left where he had been laying seconds ago. He snapped the rifle up aimed and pulled it to the left just as he squeezed the trigger. That was a warning shot the next will be right in your gizzard. Lay the rifle down and I won t have to kill you. The big shadowy figure was silent and motionless almost as if in deep thought.  
Pete? is that you Pete? Bear Jennings as I live and breath. I thought a grizz, would have eaten you long ago. Well I heard you took up with a female woman, decided to grow cows and kids. I mourned you for near six months. I couldn t imagine a guy surviving longer then that, so I went back to work. Come on in here and tell me what this is all about. Pete brought the grizzled old mountain man up to date with as much detail as he could, an awkward silence followed.  
Let me get this straight in my head, three guys kidnapped your wemen folk and this specimen is one of them. He setup to guard the back trail, but you captured him. Now you re saving him for what? Some little fat man in a black robe to say guilty hell man you know he s guilty, slice his throat and lets get after the other two.

Hold on Bear this has to be played my way if you can abide with that I appreciate you help, if not I m better off on my own. Alright, alright don t get your tail feathers in a knot, from now on you just tell me what you want done. About an hour later the strange trio left the clump of woods and joined the trail leading up the mountain. Pete led the way his prisoner tied to his own horse. Bear Jennings brought up the rear riding his mule. He reasoned the mule was just as fast in mountainous territory as a horse and had much more endurance. The terrain was becoming decidedly steep as they started climbing into the foot hills of the Grand Teton.  
An hour later Pete, called a stop. Ahead there was a large bonfire accompanied by some sort of excitement, loud Indian voices could be heard. Bear slipped silently from his saddle.  
Maybe I should have a look see? His questioning look asked for a response.  
Yes might be a good idea. Me and my pal will wait here now don t you get yourself killed. The Indian that could kill me, ain t been born yet. The old trapper disappeared into the darkness. It was perhaps an hour later when he returned, the sky just over the mountains was brightening, but full day light would be sometime in coming, at least on this side of the divide.  
Well you got yourself some problems up ahead. The way I sees it some scouts must have seen those you re after. The Indians were probably ready for them long before they even got camp set up. Those Indians has possession of your women, horses, even your enemies and they don t seem all that interested in giving them up. There isn t any choice for me, I can t get help fast enough to be of use, so I guess it s up to me. If you re figurin on goin ahead with this we better do some scheming, cause those Indians ain t goin to roll over for yea. They got two wemen, several horses and a couple of white men captives, who are a lot of fun in their own right. The chances of them giving any of them up without powerful good reasons are almost non-existent. They intend to sell them wemen to the Camanchiros, should bring a handsome price if I do say so myself. The captives will entertain them for many hours, some times day as they scream and squirm their lives away. You in this? don t need to be, you can walk away this is my problem. You drag me along though all the boring stuff and now when thing is gittin exciting you wants rid of me. Now that our partnership is over I m taking charge. You get yourself around to the other side of this camp, you ve got an hour and then ready or not all hell will break loose. If you got any chance of saving your wife and daughter that will be it. Pete picked up his Henry and disappeared into a light drizzle that was engulfing this side of the mountain.  
Bear Jennings turned toward the captive the moment Pete s from disappeared into the mist.  
Okay pilgrim here s the situation, we are about to take on a good portion of the Shoshone nation. Our chances of succeeding are slim to none. Now the choice is yourn, you can sit here and wait until the Indians defeat us and then sweet talk your way out of their grip, or you can throw in with us. The reward I offer is the chance to be judged by white men, even if it s Frontier Justus. The alternative is Indian Justus and you won t like that. I can t move around much, but if you can find me a place were I have a good view of their camp, I ll show you what a Henry Rifle can do in the hands of an expert. Bear smiled as he departed in search of a good snipping site. Twenty minutes later he found a pinnacle of stone that jutted out from a cliff. It stood about eight feet tall and was encased in a tangle of live trees and dead falls. It was decidedly better than Bear had hoped for, a seat near the top and a clear view of the campgrounds ahead. Fifteen minutes of pushing, pulling and cursing was the cost of installing Tom on his perch. Bear knew the wound in Tom s leg was infected and something would have to be done in the near future. A smile curled his lips as the thought struck him; perhaps in twenty minutes to a half hour the problem wouldn t exist.  
Pulling the Sharps Buffalo Gun from Pete s pack along with a hand full of shells he settled himself behind a stand of poll pines. Three shells were laid out on a near by log while bear inserted another into the breech of the powerful weapon. Silently he closed the breech, avoiding any of the tell-tale metallic noises which could be a give away.  
Standing Bear viewed the camp ahead. Directly in the center was a huge bonfire kept active despite the drizzle. Behind the fire a large tepee, this would be the Chief s quarters and the command post. Several teepees were scattered almost haphazardly and served as the sleeping quarters for the braves. A teepee isolated form the rest and complete with two guards would be where the prisoners were kept. The horses were corralled in a make shift arrangement to the left of the prisoners teepee and a guard was posted there.  
Bear judged the Indians to be a scouting party about twenty strong. Eight to ten would be seasoned warriors; another eight to ten would be trainees. Lifting the heavy rifle Bear glanced at his pocket watch. Time, things was happening, he thought as he aimed the rifle.  
An explosion occurred in the main camp fire, followed by the commanding report of the sharps. Embers were hurled eight to ten feet around the fire, and confusion was the order of the day.  
Pete moved toward the prisoner teepee at the first explosion, all eyes in the camp were turned toward the west were the trouble seemed to be. The guard he had seen with the horses fell as an unseen missile struck him. The guards stationed outside the teepee were mere children, thirteen Pete guessed at the most. He didn t like the thought of fighting children, even Indian children, but he hardened his heart for what must be done. Defeating the two guards was swift and certain he quickly step into the tepee. While cutting his wife and daughter lose, Pete s eyes never left the other two captives.  
I m sure you will understand if I don t free you, it s just that the Indians have something planed for you I m sure you will find it amusing. Indians moved toward the attackers even as a Henry Rifle joined the first. For a moment it seemed like the Indians were going to simply over whelm their enemies by the sheer force of numbers. A lone figure stepped from the command teepee and with an arm signal sent the attacking Indians to cover.  
Pete readied three horses as best he could, he wasn t worried about the women, they could ride bear back, or saddle it made little difference. Carefully he made his way around the Indian Encampment to the south. The trail was fifteen feet higher than the mini battle ground that lay out below him. He knew a new strategy was being deployed in the struggle going on below. The steady firing had degraded to sporadic shots indicating that shooters needed time to locate targets.  
Kate, take Peggy up the trail thirty yards and wait for me there I think some friends of mine need a little help. From his vantage point Pete could see the Indians braves who were attacking Bear s position. They were flat on their bellies crawling forward careful so as not to show a good target to the enemy.  
He dismounted and selected a tree to steady his Winchester against. A thicket of young aspen concealed five or six brave, as they waited for their number to reach a level that would result in victory. The aspen didn t offer protection just cover. From his position Pete could see them clearly five maybe six, not firing just waiting. Taking aim at the aspens Pete fired five shoots into them as quickly as he could. Confusion reined as the Indians realized they were exposed to a new enemy on their southern flank. The importance of this information was driven home when they realized to find cover from one direction, exposed them to the other. Pete slowly and methodically searched out targets, an arm here and a leg there, adding to the absolute confusion and panic of the scene below.  
The Chief was standing in plain view beside the command tepee directing the battle with hand signals and arm gestures. It was apparent that he was calling his attacking force back to the command tent; it was just the reason that remains unclear. Braves milled around as if awaiting some direction, but none seemed to come.  
Suddenly Pete knew what was happening; it was so plain he cursed himself for being a naive tender-foot. There was a force of Indians following up his back trail. If they could surprise and kill him that would be great, but just to chase him out would be good. The Indians wanted the advantage of this high ground to target the defenders.  
While he made his way to his horse he tried to imagine where this force would be in real time. It was hard to know because he had no idea when the decision was made. Mounting his horse he rode to where his wife and daughter waited.  
I have started this action and now find it is imperative that I remain and see it through. If I was to leave with you, two dear friends would almost surely die. Take this trail it will lead you out of the mountains when you come to a trail that intersect this one turn right it will take you to the ranch. I will meet you there as soon as possible. Kate had positioning her horse next to Pete s, when he finished speaking; she leaned over and gave him a kiss that conveyed much more than words ever could. Peggy was trying to bring her horse near, but Pete gave his wife s horse a sharp smack on its butt sending it up the trail and Peggy s horse whirled to follow.  
There will be lots of time for kissing later, Pete shouted to the receding forms. Turning his horse he rode back to the place on the trail where he had made his stand. He needed a spot he could defend and at the same time control the slope leading down to the battle. It had to be higher than this with a natural protection. Scanning the upper side of the trail he noticed a ledge about twenty-five feet up. The character of the land on that side of the trail was almost like a cliff. Pete thought if he could get to the ledge he would have an almost perfect position for controlling the lower slope. Loosening his belt Pete shoved his rifle down parallel to his back and guided barrel underneath his belt. Satisfied he tightened the belt and started his climb. The slop was gentle and he made good time for the first fifteen feet, but then it changed to cliff like. Upward advancement was slowed to a snails pace. His every move needed to be planned out in advance. Pete was just under the ledge, but its outer lip was above his head and about eighteen inches behind him. He had to propel himself upward and out putting all his hope in finding a good hand hold, on the shelve.  
Climbing was not one of Pete s favorite pastimes, but when something needed doing there was nothing, but press on. Just to his right there was a rather large knob of granite jutting out a few inches. It would be difficult to get his right foot that high, but would make great kick off spot if he could. When Pete managed to get his foot on the knob he found the angle afforded him little leverage. Slowly he inched his position higher when he had felt some power in the right leg, then he pushed with all his strength. Pete s body was flung up and outward, without even a hand hold he was literally airborne. He flung his arms out blindly groping for a hand hold and the fingers of his left hand found a ridge on the surface of the ledge. Pete reached in as far as he could with his right arm and to his amazement his fingers closed around a branch or the trunk of a stunted tree. Pulling himself up with his right arm, Pete released the hold he had with his left hand and reached in as far as he could. To his relief, his exploring left hand found a hole that made a lot better grip than the other had.  
Holding with his left hand he levered himself horizontal to the shelf. Hooking his right foot over the edge, he used it to raise his body, so his left leg could slide in under it. Pulling himself up with his left arm, while rolling his body over with his right, installed him face down on the ledge. For a moment he lay still, catching his breath, then he reached over his shoulder and removed the rifle. The rifle was placed on the ledge followed by his colt and topped off by two piles of shells one for each of the weapons.  
Some wiggling and squirming resulted in Pete being situated on his right hip facing the trail and the slop he hoped to control. At first he was elated with his position, but when he looked at the battle ground below he realized his control of it was gone, the entire lower battle plain was obscured by greenery, with only sporadic breaks in it.  
A flash of movement on the back trail drew his attention back to his purpose for being there. A single Indian armed with a bow worked his way up the trail, scanning the brush to right, the brush that had obscured the rifle man. As he advanced two Indians armed with rifles flanked him from either edge of the trail. Then came the one Pete waited for. He had more of a head dress than the others and that meant he was probably in charge of this small group.  
Pete opted for the revolver due to its ability to offer six quick shots. He shot the one he thought to be in charge first, then picked off the two carrying the rifles. When he looked for the one carrying the bow, he couldn t be found. The battle had resumed in the ground below and there seemed little thought being given to casualties. Obviously the Indians decided to over whelm the two rifle men, be it at a terrible cost. Pete brought his rifle to bear on the two men standing beside the command tent. The chief and his second in command were screened by vegetation, but from Pete s location only the chief was obscure; his second in command was visible throw the screen of foliage. Pete thought what hell you took the gift you were offered. He drew aim on the image and squeezed the trigger. The chief was physically hurled against the tent, his second in command just dropped to the ground where he had stood. The roar of the fifty-caliber echoed over the battle field below. Great minds think alike, Pete thought, as the echo of the powerful weapon faded away. The snake is headless; let s see how long it takes the body to die. Already small groups of Indians were breaking off the battle and heading back to camp. Pete had two problems, he didn t know how many Indians were in the group that followed his trail or where they were. Of equal importance, but perhaps not so pressing was the matter of his decent from this ledge. Coming up was difficult, but Pete had no illusions descending would be several times as hard.  
Glancing down at the battle ground it was evident that the Indians were with drawing. Pete had pretty much whittled his options down to two possibilities. One involved reversing his climb up. He was aware that this plan was very large on luck and the probability of failure would result certainly in serious injury, if not death. The second option involved leaping out from the ledge about eight feet to a pole pine, which grew along side the cliff.  
He was just seriously considering the simple act of standing up on a narrow shelf some twenty five feet above the trail.  
What in name of thunder are you doing up there? Bear Jennings slid off his mule. I came along this trail and saw a bird up here on this ledge, so I reasoned if a bird could sit here, so could I and here I am. Before you reason you can fly down I have a better way. He rummaged in his pack and came up with a length of rawhide rope. Holding the end he tossed the coil up to Pete. It took only minutes to find a place to tie off to. Pete tossed the rest of the rope down and climbed down on the original line a simple tug of the other end free it. Come on I left Tom alone with our gear and I don t want to tempt him any longer than I have to. The two men walked leading Bear s mule. I heared your wemen go by they wasn t wasting any time, bet there half way to the main trail by now. Pete listened as the old mountaineer rambled on. We sure did show them Red Skins a thing or two. By God skirmishes like that sure do let a man know the thrill of living. Yea I know what you mean the surge of battle has the same effect as too much whiskey. The high it gives us is like a feeling of invincibility, but the let-down which follows is sometimes devastating. Anyway I ve given up this life in favor of ranching. When I get my horse I will head for home. I have a lot of work to do, but that s something that has never bothered me. They approached the camp where Tom was waiting, his injured leg propped up on a rock. He had slit the pant leg and was dusting the gagged wound with sulfur powder. Bear cleared his throat. Tom the battle is over and as I promised, you have won the right to be judger by the white man s law. He turned slightly to-ward Pete. You sir are the judge in this case, because in Frontier Justus the wronged must judge the accused. How do you find this man, in regard to the charges against him; theft, kid-napping and setting fire to your house. I find him guilty by association, but in light of the bravery and courage he displayed in the battle we just came though. I grant him a full pardon. I will not charge him with any crime, nor will I assist in his capture, if and when the white man law comes enquiring.  
Pete walked over to his horse.  
Bear my debt to you is almost too large for me to comprehend, but you know where my ranch is located. If ever your life turns to need, I will be there for you.  
He mounted and rode away thankful for being given back the life he had come to cherish. 


End file.
